


different though we are, in this, at least, we are one

by thestarstake (NIQtraust)



Series: Fëanorian Week 2021 [3]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Brotherly Love, Character Study, Feanor's A+ Parenting, Gen, Growing Up, Unreliable Narrator, inaccurate narrator, not a character study of Maedhros but it sort of turned into one, not in an angst sense but in a "we're still kids" sense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 11:01:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30138573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NIQtraust/pseuds/thestarstake
Summary: —It was never going to be easy, growing up in his father's shadow.A talk between Curufin and Maitimo opens the younger's eyes to the burden they both share.
Relationships: Curufin | Curufinwë & Fëanor | Curufinwë, Curufin | Curufinwë & Maedhros | Maitimo, Fëanor | Curufinwë & Maedhros | Maitimo
Series: Fëanorian Week 2021 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2222217
Comments: 5
Kudos: 25





	different though we are, in this, at least, we are one

**Author's Note:**

> I headcanon Feanor as a good dad, but one who can get overeager about his sons. He wants the best for his kids, but he wants the _best_ for them, and will push them for it.

It was never going to be easy, growing up in his father's shadow. Fëanáro was an elf of legend: no matter what the Noldor said of him, they knew his name. Curufin could not compete with that.

He was the unofficial heir, after all. He was the most alike to his father, both in looks and mannerisms, and skills. Maitimo may have been the official heir, but he took after their mother and was nothing like their father.

So it was strange, then, that Curufin should find himself so drawn to his eldest brother.

It started small. Gentle touches to his shoulders in silent praise after a rough day at the forge. The small, tight smiles that Maitimo shared with him and no other, not even Macalaurë, to whom his eldest brother was closest. 

"You feel it too," Maitimo said one day, approaching him while he sat outside alone, watching the world pass by from his position on a hill. His brother took a seat beside him, long legs stretched out on the grass.

"Feel what?" Curufin asked.

"The pressure he puts on you and I. I love our father, but there are days I do wonder if he sees us as his children or as his heirs." At Curufin's blank look, Maitimo elaborated. "I will inherit, should he ever die or retire. But you are the one he loves. He wishes that you had been born first, so that you might take his place one day."

"He loves us all," Curufin returned, disliking the words Maitimo spoke. His brother gave a small, bitter laugh.

"Aye, he does. But he doesn't see us. I am the one adrift, who will never be like him. Macalaurë, Tyelkormo, and Carnistir have little interest in the forge. You work with Father day and night, with little rest for either of you."

Curufin fell silent, and Maitimo picked idly at the grass, watching the city as it stood in the distance. 

"I am sorry," Curufin said at last. He did not look over, but he could sense his brother's eyes on him.

"There is no need. It is his fault, not yours. Do not blame yourself for our father's faults or my pain. I adore you, little brother, and I would see you be happy."

"You would see us all be happy. When do you get to choose?" Maitimo did not answer, and for a moment, Curufin feared he had gone too far. But at last his brother spoke again.

"I will choose my own path when I am free to," he said finally. "But that time has not yet come." Curufin was treated to a tight smile, years of pain silently hidden behind his brother's eyes. How blind he had been, to never have noticed the burden Maitimo bore before. His brother rose to his feet, dusting off the grass.

"Curufinwë." And it was rare that Curufin heard his full name from his brother's mouth when he was not in trouble, so he looked up, but there was no foreboding in Maitimo's voice. "Live your life. Atar and I will live ours."

Then Maitimo was gone, and Curufin was left alone with his thoughts. And worrisome thoughts they were.

* * *

At last, Curufin returned to the house, and then the forge. He watched his father as he worked, seeing the same mannerisms in himself. Except Fëanáro was full of ideas today, and Curufin was filled with a strange melancholy.

"What troubles you, boy?" His father asked and not unkindly. But Curufin had no answers for him, and so he simply shrugged and let his hands speak for him as they worked. Fëanáro asked him no more questions, and the two of them worked beside each other in silence.

* * *

He began noticing now, more and more of the troubles his brothers went through. Macalaurë and Carnistir, forever busy although with different subjects. Subjects that were so very different from their father, but they were interests nonetheless. Though Fëanáro did not understand them entirely, he supported the two without fault.

Tyelkormo was wild and free, but Curufin saw only that he was glad of it. His brother was rarely in the house now that he had reached his majority, and some days Curufin wondered if perhaps that was the last he would see of him and that his brother would not return this time.

Ambarussa were still young, but they had each other, at least. Curufin found himself watching Maitimo when he could, seeing how practically running the household beside their mother was wearing on him. Fëanáro was ever busy and there were rumours of shadows growing, of Melkor gathering strength. 

When Nerdanel left one morning on a trip to their uncle's, Curufin found himself alone for once in the house, with Maitimo as his only company. His brother seemed unaware of his presence, going through the motions of ensuring his brother's projects and ideas were safe, that their father was in his forge, that the paperwork was done.

Fëanáro's office was where Curufin found him, slumped over the desk with ink staining one hand as he wrote, having fallen asleep as he transferred their father's notes into a document that was readable. Curufin would know. He had worked off of Fëanáros notes many times, and the initial versions were nigh impossible to read in dim light.

But he had not realised before how much work his eldest brother put into their father, how deeply ingrained Maitimo was in Fëanáro's renown.

Gently, Curufin moved the inkwell and freed the pen from Maitimo's fingers, then shook his brother awake. Maitimo stirred quickly, knocking into Curufin's chin as he sat up. He cursed quietly, then muttered an apology.

"'s fine," Curufin said, watching his brother with a sense of grief and awe. There were ink smears on Maitimo's cheek as well, where he had fallen against the still-drying paper. His eldest brother flexed his fingers, then leaned back in his chair and sighed quietly.

"Thank you, Kurvo," he said quietly, staring at the smudged paper with resignation. Curufin recognised it: it was the same expression he wore when he made a mistake in the forge and knew at once he would have to begin again. Maitimo made a tired, vague gesture towards the door. "But go. Let me work."

Curufin took two steps towards the door, then halted and turned halfway around. "Are you alright?" He asked, surprising himself in his bluntness.

Maitimo did not look alright. He bore dark circles under his eyes and the grey colour of them was glassy and made dull from exhaustion. His hair, while contained with two braids wrapping around the sides of his head and keeping the loose section back, seemed more unkempt than Curufin had ever seen his brother.

Or perhaps he had never truly _seen_ his brother. He had seen the side of Maitimo that the elder chose to project, in order to keep up appearances and his reputation. He hid the exhaustion from even his own family, wanting to see them grow no matter the cost to himself.

And that was when Curufin made possibly the most important decision he would make in his many years.

"Here," he said, plucking the pen from Maitimo again. "Allow me." He pulled over a second chair and brought a fresh sheet of paper towards himself. At his brother's questioning and slightly wary look, Curufin simply replied, "I know his handwriting better. I spend hours at his side every day." Then more quietly, "this should not be your burden."

Maitimo gave him a small, sad smile.

"No," he agreed. "But who am I if not my father's son? I have not stumbled upon who it is I am meant to be, so I live now in his shadow and those of my brothers." Curufin set down the pen and wrapped his arms around his brother, holding him tightly as Maitimo held him also.

"I wish it was not this way," Curufin said bitterly. "Your life has been reduced to caring for the rest of us." 

"It's alright," Maitimo said again, despite it being anything but. "His dreams are the burden we both share, more than any of our brothers." He drew back enough to look Curufin in the eyes, then kissed his forehead. 

"Now help transcribe his notes, and perhaps I will then be able to find rest."

* * *

Curufin found himself in Maitimo’s rooms many nights as the years went by. What had once been an action borne out of fear of leaving his brother alone to run himself ragged had turned into a source of comfort for them both. Even Macalaurë, closest to Maitimo, did not spend quite so much time with their eldest brother.

It took many years. It took many conversations and late nights, many times holding Maitimo together when his brother no longer could. It took time and it took patience, but ever so slowly, Curufin began to see the pain in Maitimo’s eyes lighten. He saw the bags under his eyes lighten, then mostly disappear as his elder brother was finally able to sleep at night without his burden and stress keeping him awake. He watched Maitimo smile more often, and hold him closer.

He watched his brother finally discover that he was worth more than what he could give, and when Curufin returned to the forge day after day, more often than not he was smiling, for he had done that. He had given life back to his brother, who had been there for him since the start.

And if Curufin's eyes still met Maitimo’s grey ones often, and smiled when he saw that the burdens his brother carried were now shared, then that was not the business of anyone but them two.


End file.
